


Thoroughbred

by Su_Whisterfield



Series: No Man An Island [3]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 08:34:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21443308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Su_Whisterfield/pseuds/Su_Whisterfield
Summary: The morning after the night before, follow up to Strong and Paper Cuts
Relationships: Logan/Kurt Wagner
Series: No Man An Island [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1544137
Comments: 11
Kudos: 17





	Thoroughbred

I wake from a good night’s sleep to a heavy, familiar weight in my arms. That warm body is the reason for the good sleep.

I run my hand down his flank; not heavy enough at the moment, the muscles can’t hide the prominent ribs and hip bones. There’s not an ounce of spare flesh on him. He’s supposed to be at least 160 pounds, I’d prefer 170 or 175, but I’d guess he’s currently less than 150.

When he first joined us, he was scrawny as an alley cat that had never had a square meal. He looked sharper, harder, particularly in the face, and always hungry, like a teenager, though he was over twenty. Not his fault, mutant thing; the speedsters and ‘porters all run ‘hot’, their bodies take a lot of energy to keep going.  
He needs at least five thousand calories a day, more if he’s working. He knows this, Moira and Chuck have drilled it into him over the years and back at the Mansion, it was easy to keep an eye on him. Here we’re too spread out, it’s weeks since I’ve seen him.  
He’s got the body of an athlete, an olympic level athlete. Me? I’m an old workhorse, shove anything in me and my body can convert it into fuel, Kurt is a thoroughbred, like those fancy horses you see at the racetrack, his body is a beautiful machine and it functions best with the right diet. He knows this too.  
Oh, he says he’s eating, he won’t lie and he won’t deliberately neglect himself, he is eating, but he’s not eating enough of the right stuff, and he’s distracted by work and this Council crap. Might have to have a word with Jeannie. And ‘Ro. They see more of him these days.

Still beautiful though, still feels good in my arms. I’m glad I was here for him. That he was here for me. I stoke that soft fur, sensation soothes me nearly as much as it soothes him.

Need to check up on Jeannie this morning; Chuck is important to her, yesterday was not a good day, not a pretty sight. She’s gonna be upset too.  
Glad she didn’t see me in that state after the meeting with the Captains, she knows what I am, she saw me (and Hank, I bet his head’s in a bad place too) take down the fuckin’ bastard mercs, but I’m glad she didn’t see the mess I was in after, she’d had enough for one day.  
But Kurt just knows, knows how to clean me up, knows how much to talk to me, when to be quiet. An’ I didn’t know who else would be about, the Summers habitat on the moon is just too crowded with strangers, well, not strangers, but not people I want to be around in such a state. Also it’s too far out, too far from living things, Kurt’s rooms are full of life, green and growing, they smell warm and living and, well, like him. Funny, ‘Ro’s always been the green fingered one.  
  
What would I have done if I found Jeannie with Slim? Dunno, but it might not have been pretty. My self control was wafer thin last night, dangerous to be around me.  
What would I have done if I’d turned up here an’ my Elf had an orgy goin’ on with half a dozen pretty things? Dunno either, but I do know he’d have still been in the bathroom with me, sorting me out. Because. Because that’s just us.  
Jeannie has a bee in her bonnet about me not ‘owning’ her. And I get it. My urge is to fight every man I see for her. She is mine. I have to have her.  
Kurt is my lad, my lovely lad, but I don’t ‘own’ him. No more than I’d own a moonbeam. Or his smile. Doesn’t bother me when he’s with someone else, just makes me glad he’s happy. He deserves it.  
It’s like that quick blow job in the shower last night. He didn’t have to do that, I was coming back to myself just fine. He has done that, and more, to reach me when I’ve really lost it, when I’ve really only been clinging on by my finger nails. I try not to let it get that bad. But he didn’t need to last night. He wanted to, like he said, a gift. If he was mine, if I owned him, then he might have felt he _had_ to.  
I need to get in the same headspace with Jeannie. Fuck knows how, though. 

I look over his head, across at the huge window, dawn is approaching. I continue to stroke his side with my thumb, he arches his back, he’s starting to wake.  
He’ll be fine now.

See, I know this man very, very well, sometimes better than he knows himself; he’s not just upset for Neena and Chuck and those refugees. He’s upset for the mercs who invaded us too; he doesn’t just see nameless mooks, ruthless killers, Kurt sees the little boys and girls they were twenty, thirty years ago. He doesn’t cry for the bastards they became, but for the lost opportunities they had to be better than that. There are no faceless bad guys to him, they are all people. 

He cares too much. But the day he stops caring too much will be a bad day for all of us.  
His compassion is a strength, not a weakness, when he sends soldiers like me out, he’s full aware of the cost, to us, to them, in a way that Mags, Apocalypse and the rest aren’t, even Chuck. Even Scotty.

He’s definitely waking, He’s is an early bird, he’ll want a work out before breakfast.  
I can help with that.  
I run my hand down his side and move it round to gently take his cock in hand.  
“Mmm...” pleased, drowsy sound. He snuggles into me.  
“That nice?”  
“Mmmmm.”  
I slide my hand down his cock, he’s uncut, we both are, so I know just how to handle him. He arches into me, I bring my head down and nuzzle into the sensitive join between neck and shoulder. The muscles on his stomach ripple as he responds to what I’m doing. Sensual. I love watching him. His body responds to my familiar touch, he trusts me, we trust each other. He’s hard now, thrusting into my fist and I bring him to climax.  
“Ah. Ah! Oh!”  
“An’ good mornin’ to you too, Elf.” I kiss his neck. There are worse ways to start the day. And worse people to start the day with.

**Author's Note:**

> Lovely boys, I do so enjoy watching them together and they deserve a bit of peace.


End file.
